Chapter Text
__________________________________
Author's Note:
I just noticed, to my great surprise, that another wonderful writer had already published a Bruce/Tony arranged marriage story before I uploaded mine.
Please rest assured that I had no intention whatsoever of copying their work. I understand, however, that the similarity in theme and timing might understandably raise concerns.
It was purely a coincidence, and I have the utmost respect and admiration for all creators in this fandom.
I will continue to update my story with care, sincerity, and gratitude to everyone who takes the time to read it.
__________________________________
Tony Stark was once again holed up in his private lab. As his fifteenth birthday approached, this sterile space was the only place he could escape the looming shadow of his father, Howard. Rows of monitors lined the walls, filled with equations and schematics so complex no one else could follow them. The speed of his thoughts was a testament to his genius—and the very reason he stood isolated from the rest of the world.
“Tony! How long are you going to keep burying yourself in that nonsense?!”
The door burst open violently, and Howard’s voice echoed through the lab. Tony flinched instinctively but quickly replaced the reaction with his usual smug grin.
“Wow, Dad. Ever heard of knocking? What if one of my inventions panicked and exploded?”
His flippant tone was a defense mechanism, honed over years of necessity. Howard scowled deeply, looking down at his son with undisguised disdain.
“An Omega like you has no need for inventions. There’s something far more important we need to discuss.”
“Important? Oh no, don’t tell me you’re finally here to confess your love for me. Sorry, Dad, but I’m gonna have to pass.”
Tony shrugged with mock exaggeration and turned his eyes back to the monitors. He could feel the heat rising in Howard’s face but didn’t move an inch. Years of emotional abuse had carved deep wounds into him, twisting his trust into something brittle and broken. His outward arrogance masked a soul that had long since given up on being understood.
With a snarl of irritation, Howard slammed a stack of documents onto the desk.
“A marriage arrangement with the Wayne family. Once you reach adulthood, you will wed Bruce Wayne. It’s already been decided.”
Tony’s fingers twitched. The Wayne family—an infamously grim Alpha bloodline that controlled Gotham. And Bruce Wayne… He’d seen him from afar a few times—always expressionless, eyes as lifeless as a corpse.
“You’ve got to be kidding, Dad. Me? With that gloomy, stuck-up rich guy? That’s got to be a joke.”
Tony laughed, loudly and exaggerated, but nausea twisted in his gut. The idea of surrendering his life to some stranger—let alone someone so distant and silent—was sickening. Letting anyone dictate his future, especially his father, was something he would never accept. He’d rather die.
“You are a disgrace to the Stark name,” Howard spat. “A male Omega like you has no purpose except one—bearing children to tie our bloodline to the Waynes. You’re a defective product, almost eighteen and still no heat. That is your only worth.”
The words landed like a slap to the face, though Tony had heard variations of them all his life.
To his father, he had never held any value—not his mind, not his feelings, not even his existence. Everything he was had always been deemed unnecessary.
“A defective product, huh,” Tony muttered. “Strange how this defective product’s inventions have multiplied your company’s profits.”
His tone was defiant, but there was a deep resignation in his eyes. Nothing he said ever mattered. His father had never once tried to understand him.
Howard stormed out in a huff, leaving the lab steeped in suffocating silence.
Tony finally let the tension drain from his shoulders. The glow of the monitors painted his face in cold light, catching the shimmer of tears in his eyes.
He bit back the sob rising in his throat, but it broke through anyway.
Frustration, despair, and that familiar, ever-present self-loathing spilled from him in hot streams down his cheeks.
fifteen years old and still no sign of heat.
To his father, that was proof of his broken nature—as if his very existence was a mistake.
To go into heat, to lose control, to crave an Alpha… If that was what “normal” meant, Tony would gladly remain defective for life.
In fact, he prayed he’d never feel that burning madness.
All he needed was this mind, sharp as a scalpel, and a world that belonged to him alone.
A few days later, the day of the formal meeting at Wayne Manor arrived.
Tony had deliberately messed up his hair and chosen the loudest shirt he could find. His intention was simple—repel the other party before things got serious.
When the heavy door opened, Bruce Wayne appeared just as Tony had imagined.
Dressed in a deep-colored suit, his face void of all emotion, he looked more like a statue than a man.
Every time those blank eyes swept over him, Tony felt a chill crawl down his spine.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Bruce Wayne,” came the low, flat voice. Even his greeting sounded like a formality.
And then it hit him.
A scent—intense, unfamiliar—overwhelming his senses in an instant.
An Alpha’s pheromones, powerful and raw, but layered with something darkly sweet and dangerously primal.
Tony’s body reacted before he could process it.
A tingling sensation sparked deep within him, awakening nerves he never knew existed.
His mouth filled with saliva, overwhelming and unstoppable.
And worse—far worse—was the sudden flush of heat blooming low in his abdomen.
The part of him he’d tried to forget, the part built to receive, was igniting with warmth like it had been set ablaze from the inside.
No.
No no no.
He forced a cocky grin onto his face, masking the storm of confusion and humiliation swirling inside him.
His body, which had never responded to anyone before, was betraying him now—reacting violently to a man he couldn’t stand.
“Well, well. Bruce Wayne talks. I figured you were mute—what with the whole marble statue vibe and all.”
The sarcasm was automatic, a reflex meant to push people away.
But Bruce didn’t even blink. He simply returned Tony’s stare, cool and unreadable.
That silence—utterly unbothered—was somehow heavier than words.
“Forgive the late introduction. Anthony Edward Stark,” Tony said with a sweeping bow.
“As you can see, I’m brilliant, beautiful, and a prime Omega specimen. But unfortunately for you, gloomy Alphas don’t really do it for me. You might want to rethink this engagement.”
Every syllable was laced with venom.
Tony had no intention of making this easy.
He was here to destroy this arrangement and get out as fast as he could.
But Bruce didn’t react.
He just stared, unflinching, and Tony felt like the weight of that gaze might crush him.
He couldn’t read him.
Would he lash out? Laugh in disgust?
But Bruce did neither.
Instead, he studied Tony—quietly, patiently—as though he could see straight through him.
As though he was peeling back every defensive layer.
Tony shivered.
Not from cold.
From something closer to dread.
And then, just for a moment—he swore he saw it.
A flicker of something… curiosity?
“You smell like an unripe fruit,” Bruce said, finally speaking again.
“A sweet scent. Faint, but… distinct.”
His voice was still low, but this time there was a certain gravity to it.
And then he took a step closer.
Tony’s instincts screamed at him to back away, but his feet wouldn’t move.
He was frozen, caught between panic and an awful, consuming curiosity.
Bruce reached out and gently placed a hand on Tony’s back.
Even through layers of fabric, Tony felt the heat of his palm, firm and deliberate.
Electricity shot through him.
A sharp, exquisite jolt that ran down his spine and ignited something deep in his core.
His mind blanked, logic evaporated, and all that remained was a searing, impossible heat.
“Ah—…!”
A faint voice slipped from Tony’s throat. His lower abdomen, now burning hot, convulsed with an involuntary spasm. The next moment, his entire body jolted, and his vision was consumed by white. Just from being touched— just that alone —Tony had climaxed.
Strength drained from his limbs, and he nearly collapsed on the spot. But Bruce’s hand, as if he had anticipated it, caught him and kept him upright.
It was humiliating.
This body, which had been scorned for years as a “defective” Omega who couldn’t even go into heat, a body he himself had believed didn’t need an Alpha—had betrayed him. With a single touch, his instincts had been laid bare in the most shameful way.
The man standing before him had not even changed expression. Without a word, he had dragged out the very nature of the Omega Tony despised the most.
Tony, his face contorted in heat and disgrace, desperately tried to hide it.